A Calm Storm Of Waking Dreams
by amorexlibero
Summary: We know of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Bill was at a wizarding school in Brazil. But what about the States? There has to be American wizards, right?    Well, here is the tale of an American witch.
1. Chapter 1: Sleepyhead

Chapter 1

Sleepyhead

_ I wake up in the morning feeling like myself, as opposed to some popular, black rapper. _It was a normal, hot summer day. I was more than bored, and begging to go outside. Unfortunately, my grandfather had an irrational fear that I was going to be bitten by ticks and die. This is true, of course, for we all know very well that ticks are widely known for swarming people, regardless of whether or not they use bug repellant. It wasn't often that I could go outside without getting an earful for it. Sadly, I also got yelled at for staying inside all of the time.

I spent most of my time reading, which I was almost certain would drive me insane one day. Now, I'm not to say that reading is a bad thing, but too many books, and too little a social life would probably drive me into insanity one of these days. A lot of kids my age thought I was strange, for I sounded more like an adult than a child of ten years. Instead of playing soccer, or riding a bike (which I didn't know how to do, anyway,) I preferred to spend my time reading, and broadening my vocabulary. I still liked to play video games. And, I still had the mind-set of a child. I was whimsical, spontaneous, and I really enjoyed climbing trees at any chance that I got.

After making my bed military-style, (the way my grandmother liked it,) I headed downstairs into the kitchen. "Ryan, you know, yer birthday is coming up in a few days." Well, it was true. In just three days, I was going to be eleven years old.

I was not excited about it, either. Most kids my age would say that they couldn't wait to be a "grown up." They couldn't wait to drive, or get a job. The girls were eager to kiss, and wear a bra. The boys wanted to be wrestlers, and super heroes. And, none of them could think of any kid super heroes. But like I said, I was not excited about getting older. More than once, I'd overheard my grandparents speaking of how hard it was to be an adult. They would talk about taxes, and mortgage. They would complain about insurance, and social security. While I had someone around to worry about all of these things for me, they did not.

None of my cousins, all of which were older than me, were whimsical and free. It seemed that with age, they all lost their imaginations. Perhaps they never had any. They didn't know what it was like to pretend that they were Link, and Hyrule Castle was taken by Ganondorf, and that they were the only one in the world who could rescue Princess Zelda. / All of which are copyright to Nintendo. / They don't know what it's like to be an adventurer, exploring the great unknown, deep, deep down in a cavern, (formerly known as Grandma's closet.) They don't know anything about being a giant beast, swimming large bodies of water, causing havoc and distress amongst innocent swimmers… (In the bath tub.) And if they ever did these things, then surely, they have forgotten.

But, my grandparents were excited for me. They always were. So, I smiled at them, and looked eager. "Yeah, I know!" And, I was, at least, a little… or a lot… excited for whatever place it was we would visit this year. Normally, that was our summer vacation, and my birthday surprise. "Where will we be going? To the beach? Out of state? London? Rome? Canada?" I could feel joy, just bubbling up inside of me.

"Actually," my grandmother cut in, "we won't be going anywhere." She must have noticed the look of disappointment heavy on my face, because quickly, she added, "Someone is coming here to visit you!" Something was odd about the way that she said it. It was like she was trying to be excited, but she really wasn't.

"Who?" I asked, obviously curious. Who dare come in and spoil the only vacation I got all year? And on my birthday, even! It was probably Aunt Heidi. She only came over "from across the pond" every few years, expecting everyone on the entire east coast to stop everything that they were doing and pay tribute to her. And this time, she chose to interrupt my birthday break! How unfair…

There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Finally, my grandfather decided to break the silence. With a flat voice and a vacant expression, he said, "Your father."


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2: Speechless

Chapter 1, Part 2

Speechless

The following couple of days were full of excitement. I had an endless pool of questions regarding my father, and they had a limited amount of answers. Of course, each little answer only fed more questions. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to know what he looked like, where he came from (the U.K.,) how old he was, and what happened between him and my mother, among many more questions. Still, the most important one yet was, "Why have you not come to visit me all of these years." I did not ask my grandparents about this; I was going to save it for him.

It was late afternoon when the taxi pulled into my long driveway. I lived out in a more rural part of Maryland, and there weren't many stores, businesses, or neighbors around. My grandparents had moved here from Baltimore shortly after my birth.

I had put extra effort into making sure that I looked spick and span. My hair was finely combed, my teeth were brushed for longer than two minutes (I even rinsed with mouth wash,) my shorts had no tears in them, and I had even made sure that my eyebrows weren't all messy, as somehow, eyebrows seem to get. Hopefully, I looked like a dish, the kind of dish that you'd want to set up on a big, glass shelf where everyone can see it, but never could they use it.

Hesitantly, a tall man stepped out of the cab, pulling with him a fairly small suitcase. He wore dark jeans, and a white, collared shirt. His tie was crazy, covered in swirls of many, shiny colours. He wore his hair shaggy and long, so it hung over his glasses a little bit.

Grinning, the man that was my father walked up to the porch. He didn't stop to admire the roses that were growing all over the arches. He did not stop to view the many butterflies on the butterfly bush. He didn't even look at my small-scale, (but very accurate,) model of the Inner Harbor, but that was probably because it was inside. Anyway, he marched right up to me, (I wondered how he knew that I was his child, but it had to have been obvious, considering I was the only child there,) knelt down, looked me straight in the eye as he ruffled my hair, and said, "There's my son!"

I stared at him, sharing a look with my grandparents. How could he say that? Surely, I had to have been referred to respectively according to my gender. Or, did he only pay attention to my name? Ryan Taylore Zaccaro. I suppose that Ryan and Taylore are both, (I believe the term is androgynous, or something to that effect) names. Did I look like a boy? My hair was super long… My eyelashes were all thick… Then again, I've been told that most kids my age look like girls. And, considering my plain 'androgynous' attire, it would be just as formidable. "Uhm, er… Sir… Dad?" My voice was somewhat squeaky, as most kids' voices were.

"Yes?" He asked, looking into my eyes, which I apparently did not get from him.

"I'm a girl."

Awkwardly, he stood up. "A girl you say?" I nodded. "I… am so sorry." His ruddy cheeks showed that he was definitely embarrassed. I smiled shyly.

My grandparents showed him to his room. I found out that his name was Travis, and that he had some sort of job in the government, but he did not say what he did. Like me, my father enjoys reading. He likes warm drinks, but enjoys pumpkin juice most of all, next to butter beer, that is. I did not know people juiced pumpkins, or made beer out of butter. My father didn't know any video games, and he didn't watch movies. I was beginning to suspect him for being an alien.

For dinner, my grandmother served a juicy chicken alfredo along side salad and breadsticks. Because it was a special occasion, I got to have vanilla soda, (my grandparents don't believe that children should usually have soda.) The adults all drank a red wine, in pretty, tiny glasses. Finally, I gave in to the curiosity that was eating away at me. "How come you never came to see me before? Why don't I live with you? How did you not know that I was a girl?"

Temporarily caught off-guard, my father looked baffled. My grandparents shared a look, like the kind when I used to say something to someone that I should not have. "Well, Ryan, I… I honestly didn't know about you." He looked shy as he set his fork down and shuffled in his chair uncomfortably.

My grandparents looked ashamed for some reason. Did they know about my father? Was it one of those crazy divorce cases that a few of the kids in my class talked about? And if he didn't know about me, then how did he find out about me now?

"Ryan, after your mother died," my grandfather began, "we were the only known guardians of you. Your parents weren't together when you were born." He didn't go on, leaving my father to go into further explanation.

"She probably should have told me," my father said. "From my understanding, she was planning to. But, then there was the accident." He looked sad. "Can we talk about it later?" I nodded. So, after my ice cream cake, and the opening of a small amount of presents (I got two new dolls and a red buggy for them, from my grandparents. My father said he hadn't known what to get me, so he'd let me pick anything out,) we went down into my room and talked about it.

"Your mother and I were very close, Ryan. But as we got older, she seemed to have a bit of trouble growing up. She was never the most responsible of people, and she was plagued with a deep sense of pride. Topped with the stubborn Italian in her she got from your grandfather, your mother was never one to back down from anything. Many months after she and I split up, and you were born, another witch challenged her to some sort of a competition. It was a dangerous, and horrible misuse of magic that led your mother to her death."

I stared at him as though he were crazy. He had to have been! My mother died in a shooting, late at night, in the very worst parts of Baltimore city. At the time, my grandparents were watching me. They had been my guardians ever since. "Why would you lie to me about something like this?" I was shocked. No adult would make up some story about magic and death, at least, not over such a serious matter.

"I'm not lying to you, Ryan. You cannot tell me that you don't know about magic! That your grandparents never told you about it! Blast it! Your aunt Heidi has such a loud mouth, hasn't she let it slip, just once?" He was definitely outraged. "What about your acceptance letter you received this morning? Did you think that was fake?"

"What letter?"

"You don't mean to tell me that you didn't get the letter!"

"I mean to tell you that I have no idea what you're talking about!" This man was crazy, and mean. In a fit of frustration, I stormed out of his bedroom and over to the other end of the hall into mine.

That night, I could hear my father and my grandparents (mostly my grandpa) yelling angrily at each other, about that silly magic business. No wonder my grandparents hadn't told him about me. That man was insane.

**AN: **Haha, for some reason, I keep imagining her dad to look like the actor that plays(ed) Desmond on Lost. : P

Does her perspective seem too old for a young kid? I tried to make reason for it, claiming that she just read a whole lot and expanded her vocabulary by doing such… Besides, who wants to read something that actually seems like it was written by an eleven year old? (No offense to any young'uns out thar.) So, feedback is appreciated. I really hope that this is liked. C:


	3. Chapter 1 Part 3: Lucky

Chapter 1.3

Lucky

The next morning, the strangest thing happened. Sitting outside on my balcony, perched on the rail, was an owl with a letter at its feet. Naturally curious, I made my way across my spacious, tidy bedroom, and outside. As soon as I picked up the letter, the speckled owl flew away. Odd it was, that it didn't move prior to my picking up the letter. Most animals wouldn't even let a human get so close! And what was an owl doing in broad daylight? I thought only nocturnal ones were in this part of Maryland. Then again, I hadn't read too many books on birds. I was still busy reading about wolves, at the time.

The letter looked rather old-fashioned. It was written on some kind of parchment, and the penmanship was like calligraphy. It read:

*Professor Kahl Hawthright, Headmaster.

Dear Ms. Zaccaro,

We are more than happy to invite you to the Tempest Academy.

Enclosed, you shall find a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. Response is expected no later than August 7.

Yours sincerely,

Andrea Bullok  
Deputy Headmistress *

The list read as follows:

*Tempest Academy

(Of Magic)

List of reqirements

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
sets of plain work robes (black)  
plain pointed hat (black)  
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
winter cloak  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

Students may also bring ONE small pet, under 30 lbs.

This may include, but is not limited to,

An owl,

A cat,

A toad,

A small dog,

A rat,

A hamster,

Etc.

Please note that all pupils are responsible for their own pet's actions. If a pet is dangerous, or threatening in any way, it will be removed from the premises at once. *

I stared at the letter for a long time. And once I was done staring, I looked outside where the owl had been, and then I stared back down at letter again. Finally, I was done staring. Was my father making some sort of joke? Or, was this honestly, truly, legitimate? All my life, I had been told that magic was not real. That it didn't exist outside of stories. But, here was this letter, telling me that I was accepted into some sort of magic school! And the more I thought on it, the more it would explain things. Like, that time I got so frustrated with my grandfather for yelling at me about sticking a window sticker on our brand new windows, (he swore up and down that the windows would be ruined,) I wanted the windows to break, more than anything at the time, I wanted those windows to shatter into a million pieces. And they did. It was things like that which made me think maybe, just maybe, this could be true.

So, I did the only logical thing. I made my bed, dressed, combed my hair, and made my way down to the kitchen, letter in hand. My family was at the breakfast table, (which would turn into the lunch table, and then the dinner table sometime after,) sitting in silence as they ate their own small stacks of pancakes. Grandpa had a large, grey mug in his hand, full of black coffee, no doubt. Grandma sipped on a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice. My father had a cup of hot tea. "Excuse me," I began, "Can someone please explain this?" High, I held my letter up. Slowly, they all turned their heads. My grandparents' faces went white, but I could swear that my father was smirking. You could see it in his eyes. I could tell by the look on my grandmother's face that it was true. I was shocked! I seemed to be getting shocked a lot, lately. But, I was! My entire life, my grandparents had kept something this huge from me! Did they ever plan to tell me? Did they plan to tell me that I had a living father? How did he even find out about me? But most importantly, "Why didn't you two ever tell me?" I demanded this answer like a spoiled brat would demand a seventh television set for her room.

They exchanged a look, and then, finally, that look looked defeated. "We wanted to protect you," my grandmother said as she shamefully hung her face. "Your mother… She died because of magic. We just couldn't have that happen to you."

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you plan to keep it from me forever?"

"No," said Grandpa. "Well, … yes? We didn't know what we would do. If we'd tell you… We, we just wanted you to be safe."

"Loretta died because of an _inappropriate _use of magic. She was completely _irresponsible_ with it. Less than day with this girl, and I could tell that responsibility is not a quality in which she is lacking!"

"We weren't going to chance it! She's only eleven, yet! Who's to say HOW she'll turn out?"

"You aren't even her parents! Why did you wait this long before you even told me I had a daughter? At least I wouldn't have hidden one of the major aspects of her LIFE from her!"

"STOP!" I did not like seeing this happen. Grandpa, I was used to seeing yell. But not my grandmother. I couldn't take it anymore. "Please, stop."

"Stay out of this, Loretta!" My grandfather snapped at me.

What? Loretta…

I stared at him blankly. Clearly, there was so much more going on than I ever would have imagined.

"No.

I love you, and I respect you. But this is my life, Grandpa, Grandma. Eventually, I will be in full control of it. And I am going to have a say in it now! And I am going to go to Tempest Academy, and I will learn how to be a witch."

My father was beaming.

**AN**: The section with * means that I copied Rowling's letter in Harry Potter (which, I don't own, of course!) and altered it a bit. Also,

What did you think? Feedback? Oh, and,

I wil nut ubdat dis chaptr ubtil I gt l0 gud reviows!

Lots of x's, 666, lots of x's, a z for some reason, lots of x's!


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